I'm On My Knees
by SwedeHeart14
Summary: Eric has somewhat of a morbid preoccupation with Sookie ever since high-school, one that never went away. When he sees her again after graduating, he decides he would do literally anything to gain her affections and make her love him. Even if that means going so far as to devise an elaborate plan to abduct her and hold her captive. Will it end well? All-Human. S/E.
1. Chapter 1

Firstly, I own nothing to do with True Blood. I am still very much continuing on with my other story, I just had an itching to try something a bit different, and dark. Not sure what you'll think about this one, or whether anyone would ever be interested. This Eric is very much obsessed with Sookie since high school, he kidnaps her as a way to capture her affections. Not sure if you'll be interested in more, but feel free to let me know. :-) It would definitely encourage me. This Eric and Sookie, everyone, is human. It is something a bit different that my weird mind was interested in writing for a while now, as I said, it probably won't be of interest. Thank you for your time in reading regardless, if you do. I truly do love the rapport of the True Blood fanbase, you're all probably the most kindest people I've ever known on regarding commenting on fanfiction. So, anyway, hope you'll find some enjoyment, even if it isn't your cup of tea.

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_I'm On My Knees_

_Eric P.O.V:_

We had the same English class together. I sat behind her in class a few times. She didn't look at me once, or acknowledged me, when I answered questions during lectures. I would watch the back of her head and her blonde hair in a long ponytail. It was very pale, very silky, like a satin curtain you just wanted to reach out and touch. Sometimes she wore it out, hanging across her back and her shoulders. Those very few days I did get the privilege to see her with her hair out, it never ceased to take my breath away. It was so beautiful, she was like a luminous goddess.

Another one time, when I was in the middle of doing weights at the gym, she showed up. She had gotten herself a membership at the same gym as me, all the more reason we were destined to be together. She would always select the treadmill several machines away from where I was working out, so I could watch her going at it sideways for over forty-five glorious minutes. Seeing her jogging always felt to me like I was witnessing a rare and spectacular show. She had the most amazing pair of glutes and the way her tanned tendons stretched while she ran in her cut-off gym shorts, and the light sheen of sweat bathing her skin while she ran in her white sneakers always was the most heart-in-mouth display I'd ever witnessed in front of my very own eyes.

The year I was still attending high school before I graduated I still didn't know who she was, only how her parent's had died in a car crash earlier that year and some talk I overheard once in the school cafeteria about how she was going steady with a boy in her grade called Bill. Really, I didn't care to know what her name was. Looking was just more than enough for me in that point of time.

Well, that was before there was an article in the local newspaper about her, about her promoting the restaurant where she worked at after school hours, Merlotte's, and her name was just as radiant as herself, Sookie Stackhouse. I cut that article out and kept it framed, and whenever I was feeling down, I would reread it and get this extraordinary feeling that if I read it hard enough, long enough, and memorized it, we would somehow cross paths and become more intimate with each other, in the ordinary way day-to-day citizens become with one another. Of course, we didn't actually know each other, we hadn't so much as even talked, nor did she ever acknowledge me, but I felt there was something special there between us regardless.

I can't exactly quite pinpoint or say, what it was about her, that drew her to me. She felt like the one to me, the only one out of a million others. I used to have daydreams about her during class while I stared at the back of her head, nothing all that malicious or crazy, just dreams of me getting enough balls to finally introduce myself to her formally, and then things would progress wonderfully. She would come to admire me, and soon, we would get married and she would be my wife. I would worship her, from her hair all the way down to her toes, and she would feel much the same for me in harmony.

The only times I didn't feel all that happy to see her, was when after school she would climb into a boy's car and they would ride off together. I think his name was Bill, he was the boy I had overheard her talking about, they were going steady and were boyfriend and girlfriend. I stood behind Bill once during gym and we were playing football, and he was bragging to another boy about how he was hoping to get to third base with her by the end of the semester. The other boy laughed and egged him on, saying he couldn't blame him because Sookie had such a purty ass and that he'd totally hit that. Half of the boys behaved like that, though. I couldn't say I agreed with him talking about her in such a light, however. So, being unable to restrain myself the way I was, I butted in by shoving this Bill hard in the chest and he took a stumble in the field. I might have also punched him straight in the nose, and the red shiny blood that dribbled from his nostrils might have also gratified me in some way. Anyway, after that random little incident, I would watch her climb into his car after class sometimes with a new sense of despair and for a few days after the gym hit, he had gauze wrapped around his nose and I think I might have even landed a decent enough hit to have broken it.

I saw the way he would glare at me from inside his car before speeding off out of the school lot, but she still never so much as gave me the time of day.

Those were the nights I had myself some bad dreams of them making out in his shitty car and advancing into third base territory. Sometimes I envisioned her coming straight to me afterwards, crying or usually falling to her knees, swearing to me that she had now seen the light and it was actually me that she wanted and not him. Sometimes I even let myself dream about her professing her love to me, that it was me all along, and then we would kiss and she would thank me for hitting her asshole boyfriend the way I did, and then we would laugh about it.

One night at a school party- after having seen her sitting on her boyfriend's lap around a burning bonfire- I was feeling in a pretty depressed mood. I told one of my buddies I felt like going for a long walk to clear my head, which I did at that moment in time. I walked, mulling everything over, and suddenly decided I felt like finally having a woman, because I couldn't have the one I wanted, so I could at the very least try to act like a normal, horny teenager in getting a random, easy girl.

On my walk I ran into a girl from the party, her name was Pamela, and she was a stumbling drunk. Since she was clearly inebriated and we flirted for a good bit, I decided to try her for a bit of you-know-what. Girls were always saying I was handsome and that I had a fit body, and she was no different. I thought she was beautiful, but she was no pale-haired, tanned Sookie goddess. I was a bit nervous when we snuck around a tree together, but I succeeded in not letting my nerves show. It was a bit horrible because she had far more than her bodies limit of alcohol tolerance to drink, and her hands kept fumbling, touching me here and there. Her mouth was all over the place. It was enjoyable, and it felt extremely good to me, but as I said, she was no Sookie. No other girl could really compare.

Anyway, we were halfway finished with doing it, and I completely ruined the entire experience by blubbering out Sookie's name, which was horrible. I tried explaining to her and apologizing, only it was no good. And then, to throw a fly in the ointment, Sookie and her stupid boyfriend came walking past, holding hands. They stopped dead in their tracks, took one brief look at us while I tried to make myself decent in pulling up my jeans, and it was then the first time she'd ever so much as acknowledged the ground I walked on.

Her eyes were straight on my uncovered ass. It was embarrassing because I didn't want her seeing me like that, see me as if I was just another one of the cocky high school boys who hit on anybody. She copped a pretty good eye-full of my ass, though, and after that night at the party, she never looked at me again ever since then. Something had certainly changed though, I knew I wasn't just being paranoid.

Whenever I got late into English class, she would freeze up and stare straight ahead at the teacher while he resumed grudgingly with his lecture after letting me in. Sometimes her lips would pucker, and she would appear all flustered. I guessed then, that my ass had been singed into her brain, and that made me feel tremendously cocky. If yet, in a sense, that just maybe there was hope in getting what I wanted after all. Her, it was always her I ultimately wanted.

I knew it was stupid, though, and that I was most likely dreaming and getting my hopes up. After I graduated, she still was very much involved with her boyfriend. That riled me up a bit, because I never believed high-school relationships were anything serious. Or at least, that nothing serious would ever evolve for them two.

"Man is nothing without a purpose in life." That, was very much true, in my humble opinion. And when Sookie Stackhouse became the purpose of my life, I was as valuable as the next man worthy of living, it should seem.

After graduating, I had plans to run the small humble bar my Uncle owned. I was very lucky, to say the least, in already having a job worked out the instance I graduated from school. At the end of September, my Uncle decided to fully retire and let me run the full works. It kept me busy for a good month or two, and Sookie Stackhouse never entered my mind since.

One humid evening at eight o'clock, she burst into my world yet again, crushing all my affections straight to the ground. She had entered, holding hands with her boy Bill, and though I wasn't a very superstitious person at heart, I believed it was God's way in saying we were meant to be, that this was it. She was meant to return back into my life, into my heart. She just didn't know it herself.

I had worked my ass off to give the bar a more homely and modern atmosphere. Since I wasn't too bad at it, I took it upon myself to redecorate the bar myself, which was a fine job, though I was the only one who said so myself. It definitely had worked out cheaper that way. I had pulled off the old wallpaper, brought in some new bright colors that seemed to cheer the place up.

I had a jukebox installed, too. A jukebox that she made good use of the one and first time she had entered my bar for the night with her boy.

She had slotted a coin into the machine, selected 'Hurt So Good' by John Mellencamp, and tore up the entire dance floor with some saucy moves. She was wearing a pretty yellow floral dress that day, with flat shoes. The dress was short and fell down just below her mid-thighs, and the way she shimmied to the music energetically and smiled her gap-toothed, radiant smile, it had me falling head-first for her all over again. She certainly had moves, and she put that gorgeous tanned body to decent use.

The bar had become known as a regular hot-spot for people to come to during the night to bust out some moves, but she put all the regular dancers to royal shame.

Her asshole boyfriend had slipped into a stool across from me while I worked at the bar to watch her carefully while she moved, and when she spun and looked in my direction- I couldn't tell whether she was actually looking at me, or her boyfriend, or not- her smile had widened and she had put her hands to good use, in fingering around the demure bones lining her collarbone area in her dress. Her eyes were shining, excited come-hither slits.

She definitely did make it hurt so good. The fact that she had chosen to come to my bar, of all places, with her boyfriend rubbed it all in for good measure. I couldn't understand what she saw in him. It really upset me if I'm to be completely honest. He looked like your average artistic type, with dark hair and a straight fringe. His body was the typical slim build, not much muscle, but a decent amount. He wasn't much of a smiling type, either; He simply sat there, glowering at her from across the room while she did her wild dance.

There were so many people around chattering, and all the noise coming from the jukebox and I felt so nervous when she approached the bar and stood beside her boyfriend, feeling suddenly parched from her carefree bout of vigorous exercise. I heard them talking through the music, and this boyfriend of hers, Bill, did not sound all that pleased in her behaviour. His words were short and cutting like a pair of scissors through the music blaring out of the flashing jukebox.

I felt so nervous when she stood right in front of me. I was pretending to be preoccupied with wiping down the bar with a wet rag, but my face felt red, and when I dared the smallest look- she was there looking right at me.

She looked somehow even more beautiful up-close in her dress, and when she asked for a gin and tonic I could read the words forming on her lips, but I couldn't understand them. My ears buzzed and her voice had a dream-like quality to it, until I snapped out of it and brought myself back down into the present, into reality.

I made her drink as quickly as possible and when she handed over a ten-dollar bill and told me to keep the change, my mind ceased functioning yet again. And then, her boyfriend blew it all to hell, in leaning over and saying, "I know you."

I was pretending to read the alcohol contents at the back of a bottle while I heard her sip at her drink appreciatively, twirling the rocks of ice around loudly in her glass with her hand like a maraca.

It worked far better for the nerves that way. "Oh, really?" I asked Bill dubiously. "You know me? I can't say I know you. Pity, really."

He didn't seem convinced. He gave me a twisted, strange smile. "You honestly don't remember me? You hit me in high school, right out on the field during gym."

"Oh my God, Bill." Sookie sounded as if she wanted to laugh. "It was him who hit you? I was wonderin' how your nose got broken!" In a way to appease him, she reached out and stroked his shoulder with her hand. My stomach dropped.

"In that case, I do recall hitting you," I said, pretending to be apologetic. "I accept full responsibility, and I'm sorry for that."

"Nonsense," she spoke for Bill brightly. "It's all water underneath the bridge now. Boy, that was over, what? Two or three years ago. Right, Bill?"

"Indeed, it was," he answered stiffly.

"Bill, I-"

"Forget it, Sookie." She whimpered when, with such unrestrained anger, he pushed her hand away and he rose to his feet. The legs of the stool underneath him gave an ear-splitting screech, and then he stormed away out of the bar. Seemed the conversation had touched a raw nerve, surprisingly.

There was a long pause when Sookie drained the rest of her glass. "Sorry about Bill," she had whispered sadly. "He's been unlike himself lately."

"I understand."

She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Well, thank you for the drink anyway. And your bar's real nice."

Because it was her saying it, it meant the world to me.

"Thank you," I smiled, hopelessly touched beyond words. "You should come back soon and tear up the dance floor some more."

She waved a hand in the air dismissively, fighting a proud smile. "Oh, please. I ain't that good a dancer."

"Sure, you are. The best I've ever seen here in years, in fact." And I wasn't lying about that part, because in my eyes, no other woman could compare to Sookie Stackhouse, dancing and all.

After an agonizing moment of indecision, she turned and left after her shitty boyfriend. I felt well and truly upset then. I didn't know why, but I just did. Clearly, she found something special in her boyfriend, Bill. I wondered if it was something I was lacking, whatever it might be. But I owned a bar, I was in control of alcohol allotments, and if she had stayed, there would have been more than a few free alcoholic drinks laid down at her feet on the house. I found then that the desire was strongest of all; It was something potent, something that coursed through my veins like the most deadliest poison. I would do anything for her, anything to please her, to see her smile. I would do anything to be her boyfriend, her faithful lover, or even so much as a loyal friend she could come to crying on my shoulder over something inconsiderate her boyfriend had done to her.

After that brief run-in, the first time we had openly spoken to one another, the dreams began again. The thoughts. At first, they were of her somehow getting caught in a sticky predicament where she was being robbed or attacked in the middle of a street, and I would come to her rescue, sweeping her off her feet. Then somehow, it turned into an idea where I was the man who was attacking her. I didn't hurt her, though; I simply stole her away from Bill, captured her like a rare species of exotic bird, and kept her hidden inside a cage. In a particularly nice way, though; Her cage wasn't anything made of steel bar, or cold. But it was full of colour, and light, of her relying on me to tend to her needs, where gradually during that time I had captured her, she would come to get to know me more appropriately without her boyfriend in the way, and she would come to like me, even love me eventually. And then the thoughts grew indulgently to, where afterwards, I would let her out of that cage and she would willingly comply and become my wife, my most dearest and cherished lover.

We would live in a nice, big modern home together, with a porch out front. A few trees in the yard here and there, with a tire swing, where our children could play. It seemed a realistic idea enough, nothing foolish about the notion one bit.

Those thoughts gradually came into ideals I expected would somehow happen in the not-too-distant future for me. Only, like most things in life, they never turn out that way. She never returned again to the bar, for weeks. Weeks turned into slow months, and on the third, I was growing impatient and left sourly disappointed. An idea began to grow inside my head, that if only I could have her with me, beyond her control, for several hours, days, nights, weeks. And there, in that time, she would come to understand that I've liked her ever since I first spotted her in high school, strutting into English class, and that I hadn't ever stopped since. There, she would come to see all the good in me, there she would start to appreciate me, and love me. Because, if I had her against her will and kept her away with only me, there would be no one else to interfere on me and her.

One morning, I made myself a cup of coffee - white, no sugars- sat down at the kitchen table in my substantially sized apartment with the day's addition of the newspaper, and for some reason I was drawn to the housing advertisements like metal being pulled to a magnet. I surveyed all the houses for sale, found one that was decent looking enough but still needed work, was a two bedroom house with a downstairs attic underneath the house. This one just seemed to catch my eye, and the fact it had an attic seemed like a done-deal.

Old and charming weatherboard house, built-in the 1930's, large garden, in secluded section of Bon Temp's, in-built outside porch...

It was calling to me. So, I made a call to arrange a suitable time to look inside it with a woman named Portia who worked in real estate, and bright and early next morning I drove over seven miles from Shreveport to evaluate it.

I initially expected considering how old it was, that the place would be run-down and would be needing a lot of repairs. The real estate lady said it was in excellent condition for its age, and that the plumbing just needed to be modernized a bit. The woman, Portia, I had expected her to be a lot older than she was. But she was only surprisingly ten years older than me at the most. Clearly, something about my tone on the phone had given her the expression I was far older than I was also, because she looked stunned when I showed up. She cracked a few jokes, and smiled at me in a way I felt too personal and uncomfortable by. She also asked if I had a girlfriend or a wife, and that it would be a real pity to buy such a house without someone to share it with. I knew she was being inquisitive and just the slightest bit flirtatious, but I didn't appreciate her candor one bit. I clarified that I did in fact have intentions of having someone else living here with me, but the fact that person would most likely be an unwilling house guest was something I didn't feel necessary to enlighten her with.

Since I bothered to drive all the way to see the house, I thought I better had looked around the inside of the house, having come all the way. The Portia woman kept following me around, like a shadow stuck to my side, prying me for details. When I was preoccupied with inspecting the kitchen cupboards, opening and closing them curiously, she had remarked that it was such a pity I was a "taken" man, and reached over to stroke my cheek with the back of her hand. I found it not only inappropriate, but annoying to deal with her pestering. I removed her hand from my face and went into another room and, much to my delight, she never did follow me in.

The living room and the kitchen weren't much, but they were adequate enough as far as living space was concerned. What I was itching to see the most, was this attic I had read about, and when I requested eagerly to see it, she unlocked the door that led down a creaky staircase into the underground area. It was a bit dank underneath, and smelt a bit like rotting mothballs, but I knew with some tender love and care, it would be perfect and fit for a dearly beloved human companion in no time.

I sensed Portia was a bit freaked out, because she stood at the top of the stairs, watching me curiously while I inspected every nook and cranny for any potential places that would be fit for a doll-like human to make an easy escape.

She asked me what it was about the attic that had me so interested the way I was. I said I needed a place to put a few of my extra things that I didn't need, like an old television and some bullshit like that. I fed it to her seamlessly, and had her convinced within seconds. Turned out, I was a particularly good actor.

Well, I went back upstairs and she locked the attic back up. She gave me a good look over in admiration, before she glanced down at her watch.

"I'm interested," I told her within a heartbeat. "It's_ exactly_ what I need."

"You haven't even looked upstairs yet," she huffed out in laughter.

"Don't need to. I've seen enough. It's perfect. A perfect home fit for a family."

Perfect for a doting man to keep his wife-to-be contained inside, like a precious flower he collected, and looked after so it flourished.

"You're looking at fifteen grand," she said quietly, as if in a way to deter me.

"I have the money," I told her readily. "I'll have it ready by this afternoon. I want to get started on repairing the house as soon as possible."

She left soon after, I told her I'd be out in the garden to think things over before I made any final decisions. Of course, I had already made my decision by then. I wanted the house, I just didn't want to come across as too eager.

The garden stretched out a decent length, and I thought it was fit for children to play in. For Sookie and my children. I was left feeling ecstatic then, and eager for things to come.

Because this was only the beginning. And I just had to catch beautiful Sookie first for the ball to be set into motion. I just didn't know how, or where to even simply start. I had a few hunches, though.


	2. Chapter 2

I own nothing to do with True Blood. I just love the show so much, and the characters. Sookie and Eric especially.

Thank you all so much for your interest in the story, it means so much to me. I know it's a little scary and disturbing! My brain is weird, sorry about that! Hoping you will enjoy this one regardless, feel free to let me know your thoughts, as I do value them!

I apologize for any written mistakes, also. :-)

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Chapter Two

I worked my ass off for well over two months into getting everything ready and prepared.

I threw myself into it, the furnishing, the repairs, everything, which was a bit hard as time was limited. I spent my time going between the bar I managed, and the house. Certain things were beyond my area of expertise - repairing the dodgy plumbing, for one - and I had to call in someone I knew fairly well, Alcide, to do the job, and he did it well and had it completed within two days.

I couldn't possibly name the amount of times I went downstairs into the attic, as there were way too many times to count. I would go down there, fixing the lighting, trying to make the atmosphere as safe and less severe as possible. It was a lot of work, considering the state it had been left it; Really not comfortable or homely enough for a human to spend their time in at all, and last thing I wanted was for darling Sookie to feel trapped and in discomfort. Since money was no real concern to me, I had plenty to go around thanks to the popularity my Uncle's bar had been thrust into, I went out on a limb, and purchased furniture to make the attic more like a comfy, decorated room, rather than a storage place you set all meaningless things in you didn't care for to have in the main rooms of the house any longer. Sookie certainly deserved as much.

I would treat her as the goddess I viewed her as, rather than a person held captive in the most dire conditions.

Another thing I did, was buy pretty dresses and clothes for her, since she probably liked wearing them most, in all the times I've had the luck to see her out and about. While I gladly admit, I was no expert on women's clothes sizes and tastes, I got a female shop assistant to help me out. She said my girlfriend must be a very lucky woman if her boyfriend was willing enough to pay over a thousand in clothes for her. I felt a very humble man, even if it wasn't exactly true. She wasn't my girlfriend, no matter how hard I wished her to be, and if I had a dollar for every time I'd wished on it, I'd be the richest man in all of the state of Louisiana. I could only hope Sookie would express the exact same sentiment once the time came for her to see the extensive range of clothes I'd picked out for her.

Sometimes, late at night after I'd finished closing up the bar, I would drive back to the house in Bon Temps, go straight downstairs to the attic, and just sit there in the dark in the antique, fraying chair I'd brought for her, adding up and weighing all possible ways she could make an escape. The attic was windowless so that ruled out the possibility of her ever climbing through a window in her haste of escaping.

There were plenty of air vents an inch or so below the ceiling, securely lodged in place, so that gave her adequate breathing and air space. She would be just fine, surely. Hopefully, she would be able to cope well enough with the dramatic change of her lifestyle.

She might know a good bit about defending herself, with women these days you never know, so I took extra precautions in making certain I never left any sharp implements around while I worked on repairing the attic up. There were also a few loose floorboards that needed fixing. After about a week, I grew confident the likelihood of her ever escaping was nil to one. In other words, highly unlikely. A miraculous fluke, maybe. I had to praise myself on the lengths I had gone to, in being extra meticulous about it all.

Purchasing the house had definitely been a smart way to go. The next neighbouring house, was in a ten meter radius range, and the person living there was an elderly lady named Evelyn, which I also found out, was a little tone-deaf with age. That excluded any possibility of her overhearing anything, if Sookie did decide to make a big noise about it. The old lady could also decide to drop by unannounced from time to time, just out of curiosity, but that wouldn't be a concern. I'd learned well and truly by now, that I could easily lie through my teeth. Charming older folks also seemed to be as easy as breathing for me, as a young handsome-enough looking man.

I brought all the old furniture I had in my apartment in, and it took very nearly a good three days worth moving everything around.

I also unconnected the old telephone that was hanging in the hallway, too.

I also might have repaired the old lock on the outside the door to the attic and bolted in a new one.

Though I knew it was very unlikely she would be stepping out of the attic anytime soon, especially underneath my watch, it still eased my mind to take that extra precaution, just to be on the safe side. Call me picky, but I didn't want to risk the opportunity of her making an escape. I had to have her inside the house, inside the attic, at all times. I couldn't let her slip from my clutches so easily. I was determined to spend as much time with her, as possible. Mostly, I wanted her to get to know me, I especially wanted to get to know her, and she would probably have a bit of fight in her and wouldn't be willing to comply to being held underneath the house in the attic, at least for a week or two, until hopefully she warmed up to the idea. I could only hope she would, at this stage in time.

With everything concerning the house being prepared for her, I started rolling everything else in motion.

I was fired and ready to go. Fired and ready to get to it. I'd well and truly waited long enough, surely. Throughout the month, in the middle of repairing everything, she was like a permanent fixture in my head. The adrenaline was racing, the heart pulsing, whenever I thought about all the experiences we would be enduring together like this while I captured her, all the possibilities that would open up before my own eyes; Late nights spent talking down in the attic together, deep and meaningful conversations we would share without interruption. Hell, just even the potential of her coming to like me, was exhilarating.

There were still some things I had to be sure of, though, before the grand moment.

First, I had to figure out her daily routine and, to my luck, she still held the job she had as a younger girl at Merlotte's, waitressing.

While I wanted to fly under the radar until the absolute perfect moment, I just couldn't resist it. I just couldn't resist the opportunity to see her again. Knowing I would, being dead-sure of that, I made sure I looked good for her. I shaved, put on a clean and ironed shirt, and jeans, and made sure I wore a polished pair of shoes.

I tried to act inconspicuous -at least, as inconspicuous a guy my height at six-feet-two could be- once I found a good place to park out front and entered the bar. It was a lot smaller than mine in size, but by the look of it, it seemed it too was a busy place filled with regulars. Several men in construction clothes were seated at the bar, with jugs of beer, talking loud and boasting about their days and whatever feats they had managed to accomplish during the week. I took one of very few unoccupied booths I could find, at the back of the left side of the bar, and scanned through the menu for a good few minutes before inspecting my surroundings and the waitresses working tonight.

At first, I couldn't see her anywhere. The only one out in the bar waitressing, was a woman with fiery red-hair, and she was definitely not beloved Sookie. I wasn't happy about that, to say the least. It was increasingly hard to even attempt to act friendly to the woman. She approached my booth, gave me a hammy smile, and asked what I would like for the evening. Since I decided I would stay there until the exact moment I saw her, just to be certain she still was actually employed at the same old bar as I knew she had been in high school, I ordered a Bud Light and waited around.

As the minutes ticked on, I was growing more impatient. I couldn't spot her anywhere, not even when I stole a quick peek out back into the frying area where the short-order cook was working steadily at a few meal orders.

At roughly around seven-thirty, I almost choked on the mouthful of my beer I was sipping, when a girl slipped in through the back entrance, tying the strings of her green apron around the lower half of her back with two nimble-handed fingers. I saw that blonde hair, tied into a neat and tight bun, and I knew. I just knew, with no doubts whatsoever, that it was her.

It seemed it wasn't only me who held the belief that her smile lit up a room.

The group of construction men at the counter cheered boisterously when she crossed over the room and held their tall glasses of beer up to her, in enthusiastic greeting.

I watched her go behind the counter to grab the notepad and pen she jotted down orders in, and then as she went around the bar, doing her nightly rounds. Everything, every thought in my head, everything coherent, was magically swiped from my brain while I watched her go. She was on fire, racing around the busy place, taking orders. My stomach churned like a washing machine on high uneasily, when I noticed her getting gradually closer and closer to the booth I was seated in. When she was at the booth across from me, she leaned over the table, confidentially whispering to a pair of ladies occupying the table and- unknowingly to her, of course- she gave me an excellent view of the back of her tanned and muscular thighs in her cut-off shorts while she did so.

I was a man enamoured by the enchanting imagery it presented. It only left me boiling over in anticipation for what was to be, for what was coming very, very soon.

While I was fairly confident and fine in regards to interaction with the opposite sex, with her, it seemed hauntingly different. My mouth went completely dry, my tongue stuck to the bed of my mouth, when she finalised the two women's orders.

I realized then, I just wasn't ready yet. I felt too shy. It wasn't the right time.

With some effort, because it was a struggle to remove my eyes from her, I slide out of the booth and got to my feet. I drained the last mouthful of my beer as quickly as I possibly could, set the empty bottle down on the table, and turned to leave.

Unfortunately for me, I hadn't been quick enough.

I very nearly bumped right into her, she had come to service me at the same time I was preparing to leave, and she threw her head back and laughed, in a very giddy and apologetic way, holding her hand out to break the knock -fingers splayed- in the direction of my chest. It all did nothing for the nerves knotting my stomach, and the fact I felt so shy around her, it was ridiculous. It certainly grated down on my ego a bit.

"Whoa, sorry," she mumbled, in a distinctively chirpy way. I couldn't help but wonder if that was a feigned voice she put on for customers, or whether it was because she was happy to see a guy like me or not.

I opened my mouth to say something back to her- I didn't know what, but I hoped it was something particularly charming- and then the dry mouth was doing no wonders for me. I was officially tongue-tied, and it was pathetic.

It was too excruciating to even endure looking her straight in the eyes, so I simply stared ahead of her, which was no trouble.

"Hey, are you all right?" she whispered, sounding sincerely concerned for me, which was surprisingly touching. It only just made me feel even more embarrassed, I felt all red in the face, because I wondered, paranoid, then, what she saw on my face that seemed so worrisome to her. Did she know what I had planned for her? Does she know... anything? And then, completely out of nowhere, she laughed shyly. "Oh my," she started nervously, a giggle bubbling in her throat, "I know your face. It's kind of familiar to me. Have I seen you 'round here before because I swear I have somewhere?"

I flashed a look down at her, and then I saw it all, splitting through my vision. Me, coming up behind her without her seeing me, catching her off-guard. Her letting loose a squeak of surprise. My hand shooting out to grab her mouth to stifle her squeal of fright. Me, dragging her towards my car. Her, kicking and screaming. Me, holding her quiet. Her, going limp in my body. Afterwards, me holding her in my arms while she lay unconscious, stroking her soft, blond hair. Kissing her, hugging her, never letting her go. Loving her, cherishing her, like a darling baby rag doll. And then, I just panicked.

"Excuse me," I managed; a deep croak. "I was just leaving."

I brushed past her and then I felt her, hot on my heels, once I managed to push through the door of Merlotte's into the dark parking lot.

"Uhm, Mister," I heard her call desperately. "You... you dropped your wallet, darling!"

I stopped dead in my tracks halfway to my car, and then I knew then.

It was now or never. It had to be now. Now was right. Now was perfect. Dark. The lot was virtually empty. The perfect time to go in for the kill. Afterall, what good would there be in stalling? There was no need to. Everything was ready. I had everything prepared. I had everything.

Everything except her. And she was the main object I needed in accomplishing it once and for all. Now was a good enough time as any.

"Mister?" I heard her slow and dragged out footsteps as she stepped closer towards me in the parking lot. "Mister, your wallet? I got it right here! I'm guessing you need it, right?" Oh, the irony.

No, sweetie. It's you I need. And perhaps in time, you'll come to need me equally, too. We'll be inseparable.

I froze up, but luckily she came to me. She came, she unknowingly walked herself right into a trap. And I loved her all the more for it.

I heard the soles of her shoes scuffle up behind me. She was near. The absolute perfect moment. Now or never.

"Uhm. Mister? Your wallet?"

Something leathery was pressed into my right hand. My wallet.

She was near.

I looked around the perimeters of the parking lot quickly, assessing our surroundings. It was completely pitch-black dark, aside from the one light outside the bathed the lot into a yellow, shadowy glow. There was no one close by, no one hopping out of their cars to enter the bar she worked at after a good days work, searching for a place to unwind to for the evening.

Just me and her.

No sounds but the evening wind. Gathering myself, I turned and glanced down at her. She was alone, coming closer towards me across the pavement, there was no one behind her. Perfection.

"You sure you're all right?" At this, she reached out and gently stroked the back of my hand with two fingers. She was concerned for me, when I was about to take her. Funny, really.

Finding my voice at true last, I said, "Sorry. I thought I heard the alarm of my car going off out here. I was worried someone was attempting to steal it." It sounded ridiculous, sure, but it was the first thing that popped out of my mouth.

"Oh," she whispered, surprised. "Well, you don't need to worry. I mean, my boss has installed a security system out here. Cameras, lighting, the works." She said it like it was meant to console me in some way, only it didn't.

Let's all hope that security camera system she's speaking of won't capture this and identify just who I am, while I steal her.

"Well, that's excellent to hear," I told her, hamming it up. "My car is of extremely sentimental value to me. It's a Corvette, late 80's model. I received it as a gift back when I graduated high school." That part, was indeed true. I did receive my car as a graduation gift from my Uncle. But it held no sentimental value to me whatsoever. It was just a machine, a fast beast. Sookie Stackhouse held sentimental value. I looked back at where my car was parked, pretending to be very worried.

"Well, that I can get," she laughed. "Men and their cars. I can understand. My boyfriend, Bill, gets into a huff if I so much as slam his car door shut too loudly by accident."

I had to physically stop myself from rolling my eyes at that. What a buzz-kill. Bill, her fucking boyfriend. Would she ever come to forget about him, once I had her in my attic?

"Oh. Would you like to see my car? It's a rare edition." Clearly, she didn't know much about cars whatsoever. Or cared for them personally much, either.

Still she came forward with me, just as I'd hoped.

I pointed it out to her, trying to sound deeply interested in the mechanics of my car while I explained it to her. I said some shit about the engine, and how fast it ran, and the dear darling Sookie had the heart to act impressed. She came around near the back doors of the car, just where I wanted and needed her most. She bent down towards the tinted window, looking in.

I took advantage of the moment to slip my wallet into the back pocket of my jeans. I had to use both hands for the job, after all.

"Can't say I know too much about cars, really," she said, distractedly. She darted me a gap-toothed smile, the one I couldn't ever seem to get enough of back in high school, even if it wasn't due to anything I was saying or doing to her. "But, you know. This is pretty impressive. My boyfriend's a real car fanatic." For some reason, she assumed I cared about the interests of her shitty boyfriend. Honestly, I didn't. I couldn't give two shits. Only her, I cared about. It was always her. "Hey, maybe if you stick 'round long enough, Bill would be real interested in seeing-"

And then I was starting to get seriously aggravated with her talking about this Bill. So, I lunged in, and I got her. I finally got her. She seemed surprised at first, and she giggled nervously when I slapped a hand over her mouth. Obviously, she didn't know what I was doing, or what to even think about it. She was clearly not taking it seriously, one bit. And then, as the shock gradually shifted, and the weight of it all finally sank in, she realized. Oh, she realized, all right. This was no game. This was no joke. Her stirrings of self-preservation settled in next, and she whimpered into my palm.

The struggle began.

She put up a pretty admirable fight, in using her feet to kick at my shins. She used her fingernails to latch on, scratching every part of me she could find. My face, my cheeks. My neck. My hand. Naturally, being the build I was, I was far more stronger. And every second she fought, it only thrilled me and made me want her more intensely.

This is it, I thought as I managed to jerk open the back door to my Corvette. Finally, it's arrived.

"We're going to have such a cracking, good old-time together, Sookie," I grunted out, when she gave me one last good stomp on the back of my ankle. She was beginning to tire from the fight. Good for her. I pushed my nose into the back of her bun, held her real tight, breathed her all in. Home, everything about her felt like home to me. Everything felt good, and real. "I love you more than you can comprehend and, hopefully, in due time, you'll come to fully appreciate that."

I got her half into the backseat of my car, was a bit hard, because she started fighting again.

She made good use of her hands, which were flailing all around me, slapping me and hitting me all over. Though I was physically stronger, she landed a few good enough hits, I was positive I was going to bruise over it. Oh, well. I'll take it.

"Sookie, sweetie," I tried desperately, when she kept it up relentlessly. "I'm not going to harm you, I swear it."

I had to climb into the backseat of my car along with her, pulling her in, and I think she wrongly assumed I was about to rape her. But it was the only way I had to get her in, I had no other choice. She screamed into my hand, effectively making me feel pity for her and the situation I'd deliberately placed her in. Her dark eyes were wide and fretful, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I said, I'm not going to hurt you," I tried again, attempting to hush her. "Trust in me when I say that."

She went to squeal again, I had to tighten my hand over her mouth. Then, I searched around with my unused hand around the flooring of my car. I had to find something to gag her with, since I was doing no good in effectively placating her and keeping her quiet myself. I really didn't want to do it, but my hand was forced into doing so. I found an old piece of rag, but then when I sniffed it, it smelt too much of gas. Not good.

"Sookie," I panted down at her, putting on a threatening voice. She stilled from her wriggling in fear, and it made me loathe myself one-hundred and ten percent. She was afraid of me, it broke my heart. It was hardly necessary, when I had no spiteful intentions of hurting her ever. "Please, I don't want to have to gag you, all right? But if you insist on fighting me, I'll have to do so in order to quieten you! I don't want to, all right? So, please, just relax and take it easy." I looked her face over carefully. "Will you do as I say so? Do you swear to me that you will?"

Her eyes widened, and she still looked upsettingly unsure. But then, she managed with a small jerk of her head.

"Thank you," I breathed helplessly. "Remember, you swore to, and I swear I have no intentions of hurting you. So, please. Keep quiet."

She managed a nod against my hand again. That was all the confirmation I needed, and she sure made good promise of her agreement. I let my hand slide away from her mouth. She breathed raggedly for a very long moment, struggling to calm herself. And then, she broke down sobbing hysterically, and I felt then well and truly like a guilty, cruel ass. I had to stop myself from holding her. Besides, it would have only made it worse.

So, sucking it all up, I pulled myself out of the car, careful not to make too quick a movement with it to startle her, and closed the back door gently shut.

Then I scrambled into the driver's seat, and started my car. I drove out of the lot, not too slow, but not too fast as to garner anyone's suspicions. Keeping true to her word, and in a way that humbled me and moved me deeply, she kept completely quiet, aside from her tiny animal wails in the backseat of my car. She made no move to escape. Clearly, she thought I was a raving madman. She met my gaze through the mirror, and held it. Her face was white, in shock, and her eyes were still afraid.

"Like I said, Sookie," I whispered gently back at her, "I have no real intentions of harming you. I just want to... get to know you."

She interpreted that wrong, and I could tell so. And she made that very clear.

"Get to know me?" she repeated, half of an outraged shriek. "What?"

I tongued around my teeth and tightened my clasp on the steering wheel. I didn't even know how I was possibly meant to explain that, but I knew I ultimately had to, so that she wouldn't come to a wrong conclusion.

"Ever since high school, Sookie."

"What? Ever since high school? What do you mean, or are you just sayin' a load of crock to scare me even more, you psycho?" She said it more coldly, than angrily.

I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. She was so amazing.

"Let me just wait until we reach the house," I explained, as evenly as possible. "Then I'll clarify everything you need to know."

"Tell me now, otherwise I demand to be released. What the hell do you want from me?"

"Whoa, now. You're hardly in a position to bargain with me, darling."

"Don't call me darlin'," she huffed out. "I ain't your darling. You need help!"

We stared at each other through the mirror, my looking more fond than hers, which was just furious and frightened, all at once. I just couldn't believe it, I was so excited to finally have the chance to be near her, and the prospect of spending time together, and getting to know her. I wanted to know everything about her. Her likes, her dislikes. What she liked to do when she didn't spend her time waitressing at Merlotte's. Most of all, whether she would grow to become interested in a man like me, or not.

"You know what, stop the car this instance. I'm getting out, Mister!" And then she slid towards the door handle, but she didn't open it. Still, I didn't budge. I was presuming she was the intelligent type of girl who wouldn't throw herself out of a moving car, and I trusted in that. "Mister, stop the car now!" In a way that both surprised me and made me feel deliriously amused, she pushed her way through the front seats to give me a fierce look. "Stop the car!"

"No, can do," I told her. "This car isn't stopping until we reach home."

"Home? Look, I don't know what's wrong with you. Maybe you're sick in the head or something, but home? Really? If you think where ever you're takin' me will be like home to me, then you've got another thing coming." She just wouldn't stop talking but, oddly enough, I didn't mind that one bit. Her voice was too lovely for her not to use it. "Oh my Lord. You holding me for ransom or something? How much are you asking for here?"

"It's not about money," I said, trying to hide a smile. "In fact, it's not about that at all. Like I said before, I simply want to know you. I want to know... everything. I want to know who you are."

There was a funny pause, and then she gave out a peculiar laugh.

"Then you have a shitty way of going about it. Haven't you heard of coffee?"

"Oh." I was flattered. "You would agree to go out for a coffee with me?"

"Well, I don't know. Maybe. I mean, that's like what normal people do, when they wanna get to know somebody. Not... give them a big fright and shove them into a car!" And then, she gasped loudly. "I finally see it now! I saw you that night, you own that bar, right?"

I felt myself starting to go red. I never knew that she would remember me, I never knew she would even give me the time of day, or that I was something worthy in her head to be remembered.

"And at high school," she said very slowly, stunned.

"I don't know what you're talking about, darling." And besides, now wasn't the time to get into all of that.

"I told you not to call me that. And I remember you," she said, convinced on that. "In fact, I remember in high school you were sending me all these intense looks!"

Was I really that obvious back then? Well, great. It somehow never registered in my mind at all that she'd miraculously taken notice of me in high school. My head whirled, and I couldn't get past that.

"In fact, Bill told me you had the hots for me once, I'm pretty sure," she went on casually, like the thing was such a big revelation. "I didn't believe him, though. I thought he was just being paranoid and now, here we are!"

I was aiming for being silent until we got home. But I slipped up. "And why wouldn't you believe him?"

"I don't know." I could feel her staring at me intently, and it made me feel incredibly hot and bothered. I wished she would stare at something else. "I guess, I just... I didn't much seem like your type."

"Well, you've been my type for the last six or so years."

"Well, you ain't my type," she said, all coldly.

"You might be surprised. I may grow on you. They say that if you spend enough time with someone, it's inevitable, and we'll be spending a lot of time together, sweetie," I said, feeling clever.

"Oh, darling. I think you're growing on me already. Ain't you such a man a girl could love, when you kidnap her and force her into your car?" She was being sarcastic. Still, it warmed me. She met my eyes through the mirror again and, oddly enough, she almost smiled. "When my Bill finds out about this, you're gonna wish you never did this!" She was being bitter now. She spoke through gritted teeth.

"By the time this is all over, you won't know any Bill's."

"Please, I just want you to stop the car," she whispered defeatedly, and then she started crying again.

I forced myself not to look at her any longer, and focused ahead on driving instead. It helped with not feeling sympathetic towards her and like I wanted to cave in and release her anyhow.

This was not one bird that was going to be released easily. Not until she knew how much so that I loved her.

_All in all, a good days work, if I do say so myself._

**_Hope you enjoyed this chapter? What do you think of Eric? Is he insane? Poor guy, he's just desperate for Sookie to love him, even if he is going a bit overboard. Please let me know your thoughts, I love knowing them :-) Thank you! x_**


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